Kitsune Moon
by Petite Kitsune
Summary: Youko's confidence is destroyed by a telepathic hunter who seems bent on destroying his mind and using him. His only memory becomes the full moon, the last sight he sees before he enters the hell that is soon to be his home...


Kitsune Moon  
  
Description Youko's confidence is destroyed by a telepathic hunter who seems bent on destroying his mind and using him. His only memory becomes the full moon, the last sight he saw before he entered the hell that was soon to be his home.  
  
Rating Pretty darned hard R for violence, bloodshed and language -- that's cursing, kiddies! And bleeding. Lots of it. If you're squeamish or... just not into that, then go look at some other fic, please?   
  
Author's Note Any flames will be used to roast marshmallows over, but lovely reviews (ideas are appreciated and used!) will earn you a billion merits in my eyes!  
  
-Chapter 1. Deception-  
  
Cornered.  
  
Trapped like a treed squirrel against the intersection of two greystone walls that rose in a graceful gothic arch above his head, slick as winter's hardest ice. No window there anyway, and besides, they were closing in, the black-robed creatures that wielded wickedly sharp silver blades in their four-fingered hands and laughed behind their onyx veils when Youko's delicate sharp nails sought a hole, a chink, any imperfection in the slippery wet stone that he could possibly grab.  
  
His body swayed doggedly. Hours of chase, and that persistent icy logical voice in the back of his mind telling him he had no chance against the youkai, had instilled a deep yearning terror of those shining silver edges that were the only thing visible in the inky blackness of the deepest place in the fortress. Youko was so very cold, his normally sleek tail a bottlebrush of hostility and fear and desperation, his ears back, his eyes unearthly wide. A slow drip of water sounded somewhere in the farthest corner of the room... or was it near? The blackness was so complete it obscured time and space and the shuffle of slippered feet as his pursuers edged toward Youko, their dead black eyes shimmering in the velvety silence.  
  
A tortured whimper escaped the elegant silver-haired thief. The blades were pointed outwards, long and sharp and deadly, and so if he ran blindly into them, he would be killed instantly. 'No,' came the voice in his mind. 'Wait. Stay...' Cold. Feminine. Eminently logical.  
  
And so Youko stayed, remaining very still when the many hands closed on whatever they could reach of him. Arms, legs, gripping tightly, twisting painfully in his hair and hanging onto his tail like leeches, so many of them and all of them as cold as ice. A sense of dread gripped him, and he cried out until he hadn't the breath any longer, and then he stood panting as steel circled his wrists and ankles. Paralyzed from the inside out, Youko could only watch as he was pulled through the darkness by the steel circlets around his wrists, dragged, the frigid metal biting into his skin.  
  
'Help!' cried Youko, spreading his influence over the whole of the forest. 'Help me!' To his band of thieves, those he had thought loyal. A stupid thought, really, Youko realized doggedly. Thieves pledged no allegiance, promised no loyalty, and got the same in return. How foolish to depend on anyone! 'Help me!' he sent out again, a distress call to all of the inhabitants of the forest, and yet no response came but the yawning void of nothingness, broken only by the quizzical fluttering consciousnesses of animals that were gone as quickly as they came. Youko swore in frustration internally.  
  
A heavy wooden door swung open, and Youko felt himself being dragged up a steep flight of stone stairs, felt them leave bruises despite the unbearable heavy exhaustion that pervaded his entire being. 'You're very tired, aren't you?' came the voice again. 'So exhausted...' As if from a distance, Youko became aware of being outdoors, felt the living caressing touch of reality intrude on the blackness of the inside of the fortress. A faint smirk curved his lips, but he couldn't hold it long enough to accomplish anything. He forced his eyes wide, wanting a last glimpse of the world.  
  
Like a healing vision, like a blessing from above, the moon filled his eyes, reflecting in the pale topaz, turning them silvery. Youko exerted tremendous effort to lift his face to it, to let the cooling light penetrate into his memory. He would remember that always, the way it shone almost in apology, so sweet and so kind --  
  
It would be the last kind thing Youko would find for a long, long time. Darkness filtered into the edge of his vision, and Youko went entirely slack, his body no longer able to stand the exhaustion that was filtered through his mind into it, and he knew no more.  
  
"He's very beautiful," came a soft silky voice.  
  
"Not for long," replied the other, the one that was dark with logic and as frigid and distant as a brittle winter sky. "I believe I will do this... first..."  
  
Youko felt the soft whisper of coldness against the sleep-warmed skin of his arm. Very faint, hardly there, but the alarm was enough to make him stir and try to sit up in a hurry. He managed to pull his head and body a few inches up, but was rewarded by the sharp pull of thin, sharp wire against the soft skin of his wrists. He pulled hard for a moment, until he thought the wire would bite into his flesh. Muttering a groggy oath, he lay back. Testing his legs, he found that they, too, were tethered. The woman with the icy voice laughed, and Youko froze. "Welcome home,"she said, her voice tinged with laughter, "and please prepare for a long stay. Do please remember, this does hurt you more than it hurts me... idiot traitor!"  
  
Youko strained against the wires again, panicking, but instead, he felt that cold caress against his arm again. It was slow, taunting, letting the kitsune wait for a long moment before his upper arm exploded into flames and the blade bit deep.  
  
"I have no desire to kill you," came the icy voice, somehow detached from the haze of pain. "I want to break you, frigid bastard, and I want you to serve -my- purposes for once. I want you to cry for mercy," as she pressed the blade deeper, harder, "and to mindlessly beg for freedom." A moment later, she lifted the blade. Youko drew a breath, gazing up at his tormentor with amber eyes that blazed with hatred.   
  
"Let me go," Youko forced out, keeping the quiver of pain out of his strong, stentorian voice, his head leaned back, and he stayed very still, his every lean muscle strainingly taut. "I have not done anything to -- to -- y-you -- ah!" The world exploded in pain again, the quiet sounds of the woman's icy laughter overpowering Youko's groans as the knife slipped over the sleek muscle of his breastbone, leaving fire in its wake.   
  
Perspiration beaded on his brow, ran into his eyes stingingly, dampened his silver hair, and Youko didn't say anything for a long moment, clenching his teeth against the pain as the woman lifted the sleek silver blade from his skin. "You did not do anything, Youko Kurama? You stole the life of my mate!" the woman growled tersely, furious. "You left him to die!" In a calculated motion, she jerked the wire that bound Youko's left hand hard enough to force the wire into his skin, like a petulant cruel child. A harsh gasp escaped Youko, and he looked to see his wrist. It was bleeding profusely, droplets of his blood sliding grotesquely down the wire's length, and he could no longer see it circling his wrist. A short cry filled the cavern, and he squeezed his eyes closed. "I want you," said the cold voice, "to lose all sense, to serve MY purposes! I want your mindless allegiance, and I will have it, regardless of what you want."  
  
A soft despairing whimper escaped Youko, his body clenching as again and again his blood was drawn. Nothing could lessen his torment. He pulled against his bonds when he could, crying out for help, for salvation, his mind desperately seeking a familiar one, -something- to reassure him, but he found nobody.   
  
She suspended him from the ceiling, and Youko felt the lashes of a whip part his flesh like sunwarmed silk; she returned him to the table and continued the cutting. His blood and sweat and his cries of pain made a rather delicious feast for her, and she watched as his mind fell away and left her with the instincts below. He was hers.  
  
"Kuronue," he pleaded, just as his sanity was leaving him, "please find me. Don't leave me here!"  
  
And then, everything changed.  
  
___  
  
When next he stirred, he lay on his side, on a cold metal surface. His eyes opened hazily, a dark amber, and he shoved his protesting body up to get a better view of his surroundings.  
  
-Her- face was there.  
  
She had full lips, dark eyes, and short dark hair. Not much of a youkai; however, he could feel the bandages binding his wounds. Instant terror leapt to full flaming light in him, and he was on his feet instantly, his tails thrashing the air, his ears flattened back. A moment later he howled his pain, curling up again. She obliged him with a velvet laugh, then unlocked the cage and slipped in beside him.   
  
How strange that he could not remember who he was, or why he was in such pain. He only remembered a desperate need, a fiery pain that pervaded his very soul.  
  
So when she reached a hand to stroke the soft fur on his head, the single place he didn't hurt, Youko shamelessly pressed closer for more of the gentle caresses, laying one bandaged paw on her leg trustingly.  
  
She had become his world. 


End file.
